


Miseria extrema de l'humane cose

by Kapla_Quail



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Disabled Character, Early music, Established Relationship, Gentle Sex, Love, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex, PWP, Religion, kind of a song-fic but strange, music-boffin Encke, reference to music, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25800337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kapla_Quail/pseuds/Kapla_Quail
Summary: Standalone, PWP.Encke has to make sure Keeler doesn't work himself to death.
Relationships: Encke/Keeler (Starfighter)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6
Collections: Starfighter Summer Challenge





	Miseria extrema de l'humane cose

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this was supposed to be my contribution for the category 'religion' (of which I was 100% sure it would be Part of the Summer Challenge ;-))... Now I post it as 'fluff'.

It was summer on earth, but in deep space, the sky was always black.

The battleship Sleipnir was floating through the Baten Kaitos system for some weeks now in expectation of the one, the crucial encounter with the dreadful enemies, the Colterons. In view of a battle without equal, all members of the crew had their own mechanisms to cope with their fear and keep up their morale. Some were rigorously following their daily routines, others were constantly looking for fights. Some needed to pour out their woes. Others fell silent.

Keeler, the Sleipnir's Lead Navigator, was sedating himself with work every day since he had heard the prognosis on his and the crew’s future out of the commanders' mouths. Tonight, additionally to the daily report writing and the logbook-entry, a software update had to be finished. And to feign at least some kind of home time, Keeler did that in the cabin, sitting cross-legged on his bunk in his plain white undershirt and pants, braid dissolved, eyes tired.

His fighter Encke was resting on the other bunk, absorbed in music after a whole day in the gyms and on the tartan track, every muscle sore and his mind empty. Not completely empty, that is. Whenever he looked sideways to steal a glimpse of his worn-out lover, an idea formed in Encke's head, was suppressed, then appeared again, because it would be such a good way to loosen up - the best way, actually. For both of them. But how to get Keeler to abandon his numbers and flight vectors?

Encke took the earphones out of his ears. “Hey, honey”, he whispered, carefully because he knew Keeler hated being disturbed. “How’s it going?”

Keeler didn’t even look up from the screen. “No end in sight”, he answered wearily.

“Maybe you can finish it tomorrow morning? You could send the navs down to jog some rounds with us while you install the update.”

Keeler looked up, surprised and unbelieving. “Are you in earnest? You want to train the fighters _and_ the navs, _at the same time?”_

Encke shrugged. “Why not? It would be worth a try if it gets you some free time, and I’ve still got the sergeants to help me babysit.”

Keeler smiled, still unbelieving.

“Come on, dear. Close your file and listen to some good music with me.” And he gestured to invite Keeler to his bunk they mostly shared. Keeler didn’t move. But Encke knew him. He was always as hard to convince as Encke was tenacious. “I discovered an astonishing song about Mother and space, I’m sure you’ll love it. Just listen to the paroles: 'Beautiful virgin, clad with the sun, crowned with stars, you that pleased the sun so much she hid her light in you...'”

Keeler smiled and even blushed a bit as he looked up now. “Aww, this is lovely. And so very fitting.” He sighed. “I’ve neglected Mother so much in the last weeks, it makes me feel miserable.”

“Then come over, this old prayer could go for yours today.”

This worked. Keeler clicked to save his calculations, then put his pad away and, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, got up and patted over towards Encke. He had no idea how beautiful he was, how sweet he looked in this shitty regulation underwear... And then finally he was where he belonged, snuggled close to Encke’s body on the bunk, head resting on his strong arm, taking the earphones from him.

Keeler just inhaled when the ancient melody flooded through his body, voice and flute entwining over the sounds of an organ, a prayer both intense and desperate. He listened with concentration, Encke translating the words as good as he could while the many stanzas passed.

After some minutes, Keeler finally relaxed and enjoyed Encke’s gentle touch as he stroked his hair.

“‘Pure virgin, window of the shining heaven'...I wonder: How did they even know about that at this time? It was long before Mother manifested herself.”

Encke whispered to not disturb the ongoing song: “Maybe some people actually saw her, even back then? There was a strong belief in Mother at that time, they worshipped her as the mother of God’s son.”

“I know.” But clearly, Keeler couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting. “This son is really a mystery. Mother never explained where he has gone and if he’ll manifest himself, too, in the future.”

“It took centuries for her to do so. I don’t think we’ll live to see her son.”

Saying so, Encke let his fingers softly roam downwards on Keeler’s cool arm and play with the hem of his undershirt for a little while. He caressed the supple belly underneath while his lips nuzzled to Keeler’s temples, revelling in the familiar smell of his beloved partner, his _naparnik..._ The colonists tended to have beautiful words for beautiful things.

He heard Keeler sigh. And while the music still enwrapped them both with its simple, touching melody, Encke’s lips found Keeler’s, lightly and chastely, cool an steady, lingered there for a while, then moved further down, grazing his neck and chest on the way to gently suck his belly and then other delicate, neglected parts.

It was only then that tired, blindsided Keeler realized what was going on.

“Encke, you lured me over here - with ulterior motives?”, he gasped, trying to stir and to sound scandalized.

Encke smirked before he applied himself to Keeler again. “I plead guilty for that.”

“But I still have work to do, Encke, I disappro –ooh...”

Encke loved when his sedulous little navigator got all craving and needy under his touch. Keeler would never ask for sex or even claim it, as for him, it was always a matter of facing limits and a constant pondering over how far to go. It was wonderful to see that he was enjoying himself now, his little moans and sighs being Encke’s favourite part in the whole game.

“What, you disapprove of that?”, he teased, licking and mouthing Keeler’s velvety skin. “Give me orders and I stop, _Lieutenant._ ”

“I...no, no... oh Encke, this feels so good.”

Encke grinned. “I know what my men need.” But before he babbled more nonsense like that in his excitement, he rather fell quiet and concentrated on Keeler’s pleasure again.

After the months they were together, Encke knew how to make it good for his partner. Experience had taught him that if he literally took Keeler's breath away during sex, the results were heart-wrenching. So Encke took great care to never arouse his partner too much, to keep it tender and slow, seemingly random, taking his time and ultimately enter a state of meditative floating he hoped Keeler experienced in the same way.

The other man let his fingers trail dreamily through Encke's stubbly hair in silent approval, again and again, while he lay with closed eyes, temporarily lost at sea, surrendering.

“Oh, yes...”, he whispered, passing to a whimper when Encke suddenly stopped.

“Come on, baby, I want to see your face.” And getting rid of his own underpants, Encke carefully lifted his navigator and pulled him unto his lap to make him straddle him. This was the most comfortable position for Keeler: Settled on Encke's lap, he could stretch out his aching legs and rest them on the mattress while steadying himself on Encke’s broad shoulders, upright to relieve his ailing heart.

Keeler shivered when their throbbing erections met and Encke’s big hand circled them both. His white hair swung beautifully as he cast back his head in rapture, stripping of his shirt elegantly, giving Encke the possibility to kiss along his neck and carefully down the long scar that bisected his chest.

Keeler would make a damn fine woman, Encke thought, not for the first time. With his exuberant hair, even face and androgynous body he was practically made to fool anyone in earth or space, if he only wanted to. This vagueness of things thrilled Encke so much he felt like exploding, so close already without having done much.

Rocking his hips with relish into Encke's hand, Keeler cupped Encke's face with his small hands and turned it upwards to meet his eyes.

“I missed that so much”, the navigator whispered, blushing beautifully. “So much. I love you, Encke.” And he kissed him longingly.

Encke smiled, a hand on Keeler's flushed cheek. “Breathe, Keeler. Just concentrate on your breathing.” And he continued to rub them with his other hand, letting Keeler’s hips dictate the speed, only adding a little more pressure to get himself to the edge.

Encke handled Keeler like he was a precious jewel, trying to abandon all the rudeness he took to in dealing with his fighters. He assembled Keeler’s hair with his free hand to be able to lap his cute ears, to stroke Keeler’s back slowly, brushing through the silver waves before wandering downwards to Keeler’s bottom. And if it was proper sex or not, Encke had stopped thinking about it, had stopped comparing because this was the man he loved and this was how things were with him. Whatever they were doing, he adored it. He adored Keeler. Everything else had become meaningless.

“Is it ok? Tell me if it's too much”, Encke said while he moved his hand faster and Keeler shivered and sighed, clinging onto Encke’s shoulders with already numb hands. “Does it feel good?”, the fighter whispered. “Come on, tell me you like it, come, for me!”

“Ahh, please”, Keeler moaned into Encke’s neck and he shuddered as he came, bringing his partner over the edge, too, effortlessly, just by his ragged breaths and fingernails in Encke’s skin and the tickling of his long hair.

Then there was a moment of catharsis.

“Exhale, Keeler, exhale, it’s all right, no need to hyperventilate.” Encke kissed his lover‘s damp temples, smiling at the panting blond. “You did very good.”

He held Keeler's sweaty body pressed to his own and breathed together with him in a tried and tested routine until the navigator could see more than black again, his heartbeat slowly going back to normal. Only then Encke reached to find a handkerchief to clean their bodies up a bit, while his partner bonelessly slumped onto the bunk next to him.

Keeler still wheezed slightly, but his flushed face was beaming of bliss. “Oh...”, he sighed. “I keep forgetting how good this feels.”

And he cuddled closer to his fighter who spread his regulation blanket over them both.

“Shower?”, Encke slurred after some minutes of silence.

But Keeler had already fallen asleep, just like that.

**Author's Note:**

> N.B.: They are listening to this poem from Petrarca's canzoniere, set in music by Bartolomeo Tromboncino (and yes, Encke totally studied Romance philology before joining the Alliance and knows about this song. Boffin-Encke is my kink):
> 
> Vergine bella, che di sol vestita,  
> coronata di stelle, al sommo Sole  
> piacesti sí, che ’n te Sua luce ascose,  
> amor mi spinge a dir di te parole:  
> ma non so ’ncominciar senza tu’ aita,  
> et di Colui ch’amando in te si pose.  
> Invoco lei che ben sempre rispose,  
> chi la chiamò con fede:  
> Vergine, s’a mercede  
> miseria extrema de l’humane cose  
> già mai ti volse, al mio prego t’inchina,  
> soccorri a la mia guerra,  
> bench’i’ sia terra, et tu del ciel regina.
> 
> Vergine saggia, et del bel numero una  
> de le beate vergini prudenti,  
> anzi la prima, et con piú chiara lampa;  
> o saldo scudo de l’afflicte genti  
> contra colpi di Morte et di Fortuna,  
> sotto ’l qual si trïumpha, non pur scampa;  
> o refrigerio al cieco ardor ch’avampa  
> qui fra i mortali sciocchi:  
> Vergine, que’ belli occhi  
> che vider tristi la spietata stampa  
> ne’ dolci membri del tuo caro figlio,  
> volgi al mio dubbio stato,  
> che sconsigliato a te vèn per consiglio.
> 
> Vergine pura, d’ogni parte intera,  
> del tuo parto gentil figliola et madre,  
> ch’allumi questa vita, et l’altra adorni,  
> per te il tuo figlio, et quel del sommo Padre,  
> o fenestra del ciel lucente altera,  
> venne a salvarne in su li extremi giorni;  
> et fra tutt’i terreni altri soggiorni  
> sola tu fosti electa,  
> Vergine benedetta,  
> che ’l pianto d’Eva in allegrezza torni.  
> Fammi, ché puoi, de la Sua gratia degno,  
> senza fine o beata,  
> già coronata nel superno regno.
> 
> Vergine santa d’ogni gratia piena,  
> che per vera et altissima humiltate  
> salisti al ciel onde miei preghi ascolti,  
> tu partoristi il fonte di pietate,  
> et di giustitia il sol, che rasserena  
> il secol pien d’errori oscuri et folti;  
> tre dolci et cari nomi ài in te raccolti,  
> madre, figliuola et sposa:  
> Vergina glorïosa,  
> donna del Re che nostri lacci à sciolti  
> et fatto ’l mondo libero et felice,  
> ne le cui sante piaghe  
> prego ch’appaghe il cor, vera beatrice.
> 
> Vergine sola al mondo senza exempio,  
> che ’l ciel di tue bellezze innamorasti,  
> cui né prima fu simil né seconda,  
> santi penseri, atti pietosi et casti  
> al vero Dio sacrato et vivo tempio  
> fecero in tua verginità feconda.  
> Per te pò la mia vita esser ioconda,  
> s’a’ tuoi preghi, o Maria,  
> Vergine dolce et pia,  
> ove ’l fallo abondò, la gratia abonda.  
> Con le ginocchia de la mente inchine,  
> prego che sia mia scorta,  
> et la mia torta via drizzi a buon fine.
> 
> Vergine chiara et stabile in eterno,  
> di questo tempestoso mare stella,  
> d’ogni fedel nocchier fidata guida,  
> pon’ mente in che terribile procella  
> i’ mi ritrovo sol, senza governo,  
> et ò già da vicin l’ultime strida.  
> Ma pur in te l’anima mia si fida,  
> peccatrice, i’ no ’l nego,  
> Vergine; ma ti prego  
> che ’l tuo nemico del mio mal non rida:  
> ricorditi che fece il peccar nostro,  
> prender Dio per scamparne,  
> humana carne al tuo virginal chiostro.
> 
> Vergine, quante lagrime ò già sparte,  
> quante lusinghe et quanti preghi indarno,  
> pur per mia pena et per mio grave danno!  
> Da poi ch’i’ nacqui in su la riva d’Arno,  
> cercando or questa et or quel’altra parte,  
> non è stata mia vita altro ch’affanno.  
> Mortal bellezza, atti et parole m’ànno  
> tutta ingombrata l’alma.  
> Vergine sacra et alma,  
> non tardar, ch’i’ son forse a l’ultimo anno.  
> I dí miei piú correnti che saetta  
> fra miserie et peccati  
> sonsen’ andati, et sol Morte n’aspetta.
> 
> (the song is even longer, but unfortunately AO3 allows only for 5000 characters of notes ;-) So if you're into it, go check it out on the internet, please.)


End file.
